


what we call home

by masterofinfinities



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It of Sorts, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Open to Interpretation, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 00:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18981436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofinfinities/pseuds/masterofinfinities
Summary: And Steve loves him, he does, even now, even this version of Tony that is naïve, that can’t understand that the world is too small a planet to fit him - his energy, his intelligence, his potential, his goodness. And God, Steve missing him is a permanent ache in his belly and staccato in his chest - it’s strong, and is there tirelessly. It is a part of him, and has been there since before Tony chose the world above himself.





	what we call home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. 
> 
> This is the first time I've written in a very long time, and the first time I post here. 
> 
> I wrote this in a couple of hours, when inspiration hit me, without a clear idea of where I was going and what I was aiming for. I think, more than anything, this is about Steve and his thoughts and feelings. 
> 
> I have no idea how time travel is supposed to work, so bear with me and the creative license I took here.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! ♡
> 
> (this was not beta-read, I apologize for any spelling/grammar errors)

 

_“I couldn't hear a thing in the world but you. And it was so cold then, and so silent, and I loved you so much. Now it's hot and dead quiet again, and I love you still.” John Green_

Steve knows.

He is completely aware of how unhealthy it is. How disturbing, and sickening, and completely wrong it is to be doing this, but there is a part of him that stopped caring not too long ago, even though that day seems a lifetime and a few universes away, has felt like it since the adrenaline of the battle slowed down enough for him to be conscious of the shortness of his own breath, the slow pace of his own heart, and the realization that there is no coming back, not this time.

Steve has always been too good at ignoring things, at compartmentalizing, at focusing on the _next battle, the next mission, the next threat_ , it’s the only way of assuring survival - maybe not his, but the survival of all of those who couldn’t afford for him to be drown by his own demons and ghosts of traumas that could take his sanity if he let them.

He remembers a past when his own weakness, stubbornness and relentless desire to be more would make his disappointments larger than life itself - his wishes for a future where he was strong another mountain too high to climb. He remembers, back then, of a gentle mother’s hand caressing his hair and a soft timbre saying _“a still mind is the house of the devil, my love”_. So, Steve filled his head with everything that mattered too little but seemed always more important than the can of worms that was his emotional troubles.

Steve knows, and is completely aware, of the wrongness of this.

_  
It is 1985, and Tony Stark is sitting a few rows from him in the same library table he has occupied for the past five days. He gets there at 8pm, spends more time pretending to be doing work than actually doing it, and Steve, as hard as he tries, cannot understand what Tony is doing. He knows Tony is too smart for this, and doubts the man has the need to be pouring over books to understand any concept - the boy. _God, he is just a boy now, what am I doing?_

But Tony is there, the youngest Steve has ever seen him, eyes downcast, insecure and wandering. And maybe Steve gets it, when he stops to think about it. He understands why Tony is here, after all - he’s just fifteen, surrounded by people too old to comprehend what he is going through but too young to be gentle about it, and he just wants to fit in.

And Steve loves him, he does, even now, even this version of Tony that is naïve, that can’t understand that the world is too small a planet to fit him - his energy, his intelligence, his potential, his goodness. And God, Steve missing him is a permanent ache in his belly and staccato in his chest - it’s strong, and is there tirelessly. It is a part of him, and has been there since before Tony chose the world above himself.

Steve watches, has been watching since the spur of the moment idea crossed his mind and he acted before thinking. He has put everything back where it belonged, with less affair than it was to actually take them, he visited Peggy for a minute, more for himself than for her, he can admit, because he is selfish and confused and he wanted to feel loved again. Steve knew he couldn’t stay there, not this time, not when there was a wrongness in everything, in a tightness of his body that just wouldn’t quit, in the feeling that the 40’s were his era but not his home.

The future didn’t seem like it either. 2023 is a in-his-face reminder that there’s some things he can’t take back and mistakes that he can’t undo, and that maybe home isn’t a place, nor a moment in time.

Maybe home is a person. But a person is a thing death can touch.

Home is not a reliable concept.

_  
Tony comes for him on the 7th day.

Steve wondered if he would, is sure that Tony had noticed him stalking around the second or the third day, the pattern too certain to be a coincidence, and Tony might be fifteen now, but his mind is sharp and he has always been ahead of everyone else. But he hadn’t even looked twice in Steve’s direction, so he shrugged off and continued the routine.

Steve would sneak in MIT’s library at 7:30pm, in the same table that would give him a perfect view of Tony but conceal him enough it wouldn’t seem like he was staring, he’d grab a book of things he didn’t quite understand, pretending to read as much as Tony pretended to study, then he’d steal looks at him for the hour or so Tony usually stayed.

Steve saw him in other places too – in the cafeteria, surrounded by teenagers but seeming too alone. With a younger Rhodey, walking from one building to another. The library is the most consistent place, one Steve didn’t have to hide in the shadows. Where he could try to feed this hunger in his heart and lie to himself, _I’m going back tomorrow, I’m going back, I’m going back._

“You are not a MIT student. You are not a MIT employer. In fact, you are not a anything, I searched. So why the fuck are you here?”  
Steve smiles.

Fuck, he knows he looks positively insane, but Tony is already all bravado. His voice is not the same, less deep, less rough, but is enough his Tony that it makes the rhythm in Steve’s heart turn into a solo set of drums, it’s angry, and grand, and unstoppable.

“Stop smiling at me. If you are after my father, I’m telling you now he ain’t giving you shit, so you can take any kidnapping ideas out of your blond-haired skull and get the hell out before I call campus security on your ass.” Tony says, too fast, like he usually does, one word stumbling on another, his brown eyes shining bright with his being alive and Steve can’t stop smiling.

“I don’t know what you are not talking about, I’m just reading.”

Tony rolls his eyes and huffs, “I’m not an idiot.”

“Not saying you are, in fact, you are the one throwing accusations here” Steve responds, amusement lacing his words.

“You are if you think I haven’t noticed you following me around, you think being here before I arrive is going to what, make you stick less like a sore thumb? You look more like a professional quarterback or a personal trainer than a MIT student, I’m not the only one who noticed, I think the librarian is just too scared of being punched to throw you out. Look, are you one of those corporative spies? I don’t know fuck about SI business, I can barely make a functioning bot, are you for real? Now, if you’re planning on taking me in exchange for money you are just doing a shitty job of, you know, not being recognized.”

"Breathe, Tony.” Tony looks completely unimpressed.

Steve doesn’t even know what to say, or maybe he does, but saying it to this Tony would not make a goddamn difference, this Tony doesn’t know Steve, hasn’t loved Steve, hasn’t been betrayed by him, hasn’t forgiven him and fought him and with him, hasn’t won battles or lost wars by his side.

This Tony hasn’t died while Steve looked, and looked, so pathetically uncapable of stopping it.

This Tony hasn’t asked Steve d _o you trust me, do you trust me, do you-_ and hasn’t heard him say yes.

So, Steve doesn’t respond Tony’s questions, not because he can’t, but because it wouldn’t matter, and Steve has always been too good at ignoring things like this.  
“It was good seeing you, Tony. It’s been so long.”

Steve gets up. He leaves.

He can hear Tony muttering indignantly to himself all the way across the street, but he does not get up and follow him.

It’s strangely fitting.

_  
It’s 1991 and Tony Stark is twenty-one years old. He is guilt-stricken, lonely and wild in his grief.

Steve isn’t completely sure why he picked this year, it’s not like he enjoys seeing Tony in pain, and he is aware his foray in 1985 might still be something this Tony remembers.

Yet, he is here, with a chest full of desire to make things a little better, as if he somehow could, as if lessening this Tony’s hurt would make up for all the times Steve wounded him with his own bare hands.

Steve is a sad man, he knows, but he’s past the point of caring and, even if by the end of the day nothing is accomplished by this, Tony _might_ \- he might, he might understand.  
Steve is grieving too.

He watches Tony on the TV of cheap restaurants the first few days, the media is unashamed of exposing a young man’s suffering, of making a spectacle of a bleeding cut. Steve watches and he yearns and angers, Obadiah Stane is an imposing figure, a leech, Tony is unaware and Steve wants to end this cycle of betrayal before it even starts, but is too scared of messing things up even more by doing so. For that, Steve watches, and yearns, and angers, knowing that in this timeline, and in his very own, Tony got it way worse.

He talks to Tony in his fifth day, manages to steal a tux that fits too tight and sneaks into a gala he is sure Stane made Tony go to so he could save face. Steve has no game plan, the only thing he knows is that he is leaving afterwards, he can’t stay here, it is not his place, but he is selfish, and he wants a little for himself too.

He has never seen Tony like this, even when they were friends, or at odds, Tony hadn’t allowed Steve a front row to this kind of weakness – right now, he is using it as an armor, as an shield, he wants the entire world to see he’s hit rock bottom, lying down and asking for the kicks – _we accept what we think we deserve._

It’s brave, terrifying and stupid, all rolled into one.

Tony comes for him again, this time there’s no accusation, he finds Steve in the corner table he has been sitting all night, trying to figure out a good time to approach him, and he extends his hand.

“You want a dance?” Tony mutters, eyes serious and unwavering, his voice steady. He grew up so much in such a small amount of time.

Steve takes his hands, stepping close enough so their shared bodily warmth is enough to stop this shivering inside of him that hasn’t stopped since that day, albeit momentarily. Steve doesn’t move to the center of the room, to the actual dance floor. This world has no idea of Tony’s sexuality yet, and as much Steve knows Tony is not in the right mindset to care, he doesn’t think being seen in the arms of another man is what he needs right now.

“I want a dance” Steve answers, just as quietly, he has no recognition of the song being played, but it’s slow enough to excuse their proximity. Tony is shorter than him, always has been, but this time it’s more noticeable, he has to raise his head to look Steve in the eye.

“Well, aren’t you just a ghost from the past?” Tony says, after a beat.

“You remember me?” Steve arches a brow, he thought Tony might, but wasn’t sure.

“A pretty little blue-eyed stalker like you? How could I forget? You disappeared on our first date, it set my expectations very low for the future, I have to say.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “You accused me of trying to kidnap you.”

“I still think you are; I know for sure you haven’t been invited to this. I don’t even know your name.”

“What would I gain from kidnapping you in an open room with about fifty very influential people?” Steve asks, amused and wanting so hard to rile the other man up.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the owner of a very large business now, worth some billions, you won’t even have to use me to get to the big man now. I’m it.” Tony says, sarcasm lacing his words, his delivery is flat, like he isn’t feeling anything. His eyes say otherwise, but Steve doesn’t think there are many people in the world so adapt into figuring out every nuance of Tony Stark, not like he is.

“Still seems stupid to try this now, doesn’t it?”

“I thought you were dumb back in MIT too.”

And Steve laughs, fast and low, it bursts out of him and dances around to the beat of the music, he laughs like it’s a surprise, like he has just learnt how to do so.

Tony doesn’t laugh back, but the lift in the corner of his mouth feels like winning.

“I’m sorry, Tony.” Steve mutters, after his laugh has died down and the music has changed. He figures they aren’t moving to its beat now, still slow and nice. Neither he or Tony care very much.

“For leaving without telling me your name? You still haven’t said it now, you can fix that.” Tony says, with a frown marring his beautiful face. _God, so, so young._

_“For your parents.”_

Tony stops moving, but doesn’t leave Steve’s arms. “What for? Starks are always running from death, I think. Sometimes it wins.”

Steve thinks, _well, screw it._

“I think they were murdered, Tony.”

Tony’s face says enough for Steve to know how it sounds. He is unbelieving, and so suddenly mad. His unemotional face quickly becomes a brewing storm, Steve at the front and center of it, asking to be swept away.

“Fuck you. What the fuck do you want?” Tony moves away from him, looks around for the first time, like he doesn’t know what he has been doing, why he is here.

“Things are so messed up, Tony, the world is so messed up.” He doesn’t know why he says it, Tony has known this, has figured this out before Steve did.

This Tony has no idea of SHIELD’s existence, of Hydra and Bucky, the Winter Soldier and how one thing could appear a certain way but be so completely different. He has no idea of this world he will belong to, one day. Steve doesn’t know what planting this seed will do, he hopes, for the life of him, that it does better than worse.

“I fucking know that, what I don’t know is you, and why you are showing up here telling me lies and playing me around. What the fuck is your name?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Tony looks ready to punch him, and Steve curses inside his own head, he’s always poking into places he wasn’t invited to.

“I have to go. I’m sorry. Tony – I missed you.”

“Oh no, you don’t….”

But Steve is already going, his long legs and speed taking him across the room in a few seconds. Tony follows him, this time. Too taken over by anger and confusion to let the matter go, but he is unmatched. No one is going to catch Steve if he doesn’t want to.

He always makes such a mess out of things.

This ending feels fitting, as well.

_

Steve is going back, eventually. He knew this before he saw Peggy that last time.

But maybe he can make some things better, make some things different, first.

_

Tony is 27 and doesn’t seem surprised to see Steve, this time. He has just left a guest lecture at MIT, Happy picks him up and drives him to a restaurant to get some food. Steve is already in the bathroom when Tony gets there.

Tony doesn’t say anything, not at first. He just raises one brow, resting his head in the bathroom door behind him.

“Are you here to prove third time’s the charm?” Tony asks, clearly amused.

“It isn’t the third time for me.” He responds, letting Tony make his own assumptions.

“Are you Steve Rogers?” He already knows the answer. _So smart, so smart, so smart._

“How did you find out?” Steve asks, more curious than anything. He figured Tony would.

“You seemed familiar, besides, a handsome guy showing up out of nowhere saying nonsense to me? Of course, I’m going to look into it, you really are kind of stupid, aren’t you?”

“I can’t deny that.”

Tony rolls his eyes.

“Captain America is supposed to be lost in the ocean somewhere, my dad spent years of my childhood obsessing over this, so tell me, was that all a lie? You just went to live your life reaping the benefits of a serum that hasn’t made you go old, and decided to fuck with my life for giggles?” Tony leaves his position by the door, cutting the distance between them, he is gesticulating as he usually does, in a way that is so familiar to Steve.

“You are a genius and that’s what you figured out?”

“I can work with insufficient data, Captain, but this ain’t it, this is pure insanity and I have enough people trying to play me to add you to it. List is full, come back in a few years to see if there’s an opening.”

Steve knows there’s truth in his sarcasm, so this time he chooses honesty. “I know I confused you, I didn’t mean to, I just… “

“You missed me?” Tony frowns. “That’s what you said, both times, well, I don’t fucking know you.”

“No, you don’t. You will, though, one day you will.” Steve rubs a hand in his face, he is suddenly tired, deep down to his bones.

“I will know you? So, this is a thing that has happened, you and me? Somewhere? In another time?” So smart, so smart, so smart.

“You don’t seem freaked out by it.”

“I’m a genius, Cap, nothing is out of the realm of possibility, and it would make sense. Something happened, though, hasn’t it? Where you are from? Something made you miss me, there?” Tony is speaking quickly now, like he can’t keep the words inside. “Did we break up or something? I screwed up with you? Honestly, any version of me that is real has that ability. It wouldn’t make sense you coming back here, though, well, it would, if you just want to piss me off. So, what the fuck happened?”

 _I must be a lunatic_ , Steve thinks, _I even missed this._

“Woah, slow down. I don’t think that matters”

Tony rolls his eyes. “If you think I’m going to let you leave without giving me some answers, you are in for a surprise.”

Steve laughs. “I would have already left if I wanted to, Tony. Listen, I- “Steve pauses. “I didn’t mean, for this, when I went to see you that first time. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

It’s a lie. Steve knew, since before he went. He was going crazy, and he just wanted to look at him, to see a version of Tony that wasn’t the lifeless corpse in the middle of a battlefield, a symbol of another enemy’s defeat, and it was worth it, Steve is certain of this as much as he is of anything, he knows they all have accepted that exchanging their lives for others was just a part of this job, that Tony didn’t hesitate, as if it was his destiny to do so, as if being a dying champion was his birthright.

Steve loved Tony for so long, even when he hated the man, even when his decisions and actions showed otherwise. Steve loved Tony in his own altruism and, most of all, he loved Tony in his own selfishness. He likes to think that there’s a version of himself that manages to get it right, that acts in the right moment, that knows to not let things unfinished and words half said. He hopes the version of himself that is completely surrounded by the dark, frozen and blank, right now, can be it. He hopes he gave himself this chance.

“I loved you, and you loved this world more than you did yourself.” Steve settles for saying.

“Doesn’t seem like me.” Tony huffs.

“I think it seems exactly like you.” Steve smiles. “Coming for you was the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.”

“You aren’t going to answer me, are you?” Tony pauses. “Is there a version of you, in this time, somewhere right now?”

“Why don’t you find that out? You are a genius, aren’t you?”

_

When Steve goes back, Bucky and Sam waiting for him as if he had never left, he knows in his heart that 2023 still isn’t home. It will never be.

He hopes, that somewhere, somewhen, he has it, though.

_He hopes._


End file.
